Confessions of a Carnivore
by rumoredreader
Summary: If something goes against your very nature, why do it?
1. Death

**Twilight and all its characters belong to ****Stephenie**** Meyer.**

**If**** you are reading my others stories I want to let you know this one ****is very**** different. That ****said**** I hope you enjoy getting to know my vampire.**

For those of you who are bothered by the grim, stop reading here.

This is to be the truth of my soul, and that is not to be censored by weak stomachs or disagreements of opinion. Consider yourself warned.

Death. There was once a time that I craved death. I believe in heaven and hell. I was so sure that I understood death. In that time I was willing to give everything to end my suffering. What a fool I really was. I did not understand that death does not abide by the same rules as life.

The day I died I did not go to heaven, nor did I find myself in hell. I found myself exactly where I was. The world around me never changed in the wake of my death.

No, the wind still sifted through the air, the sun still shone, and I still breathed. The world refused to change in accordance with my death; instead I was the one fated to change forever.

To understand my desire for death you need to understand about dying. I had been dying. All humans are dying. They are on an inevitable path to their demise. I have learned to understand that human's largest show in life is often their death. As a young girl, such ideals were beyond my thought range. I saw nothing past my physical pain.

I was dying a faster death than most of those around me. I had a disease painfully spreading faster through my body than the rapids of a river. Death was a welcome thought with every painful breath I inhaled.

Towards the end the hope was gone from the eyes of those around me. They saw not the person lying before them, but the death that awaited her. So in this knowledge my choice may be more justified. Time passed too slow, the process taking to long. I lost my patience with the way things were meant to end. I had enough suffering, or so I had thought.

Late at night, in the stale room I made my decision. I was going to take death into my own hands. In the secret cloak of night's darkness I slipped away from my family then. I never said goodbye as I made my way to the high city roof of the hospital.

With my toes wrapped around the cold cement of the edge, I closed my eyes. My arms went out to greet the wind blowing around me and I fell forward, leaving to the next life.

I never made my downward fall though; the concrete stayed its far distance from my aching body. I had moved, but in the wrong direction backwards into the awaiting arms of a man. The tone of his voice as he whispered into my ear told me he was different. He offered me a beautiful death without pain, and then he told me what he was.

Maybe it was because I did not care anymore, but I believed him.

He weaved a fairytale ending for my nightmare life. I realize now I was too weak to have done anything else.

I agreed and within moments we were rushing outside of the city. My will and strength were fading and I closed my eyes and waited.

Within too short a time we were in the woods somewhere outside of town. He gave no warning or fanfare when he dropped half my body to the ground, holding steady to my neck. His teeth sunk in with a pain I was tolerant to. Life left my body fast, and it happened so fast I can not properly explain it. Time has faded the memory.

He dropped me to the ground and I knew I was not dead yet. He had lied. He left then, no explanation, no apology.

The blood was pouring out from the wound he had induced in small amounts.

This part I remember vividly, they fell in drops to the dry leaves below me. With each drip I counted, waited. Death did not find me here; instead I was thrown into a fiery pit of hell. The pain I had run from had become worse. I was sure I was being punished for being so weak and impatient.

My screams and cries for help alerted no one in the time it took to change me.

I tried crawling, but the pain had paralyzed me. My body had failed completely, all except for my lungs as the painful moans continuously poured from me.

That with everything else was left paralyzed after the first day of constant screams. My voice had been reduced to a whisper.

This is the hardest part. On the third day the only thing I had left to do was cry. My body was shaking with the pain that had only managed to intensify.

I heard the sounds of the forest around me muffled by the pounding in my head. Then I heard the voices. They were calling my name, getting closer. I closed my eyes tight and pooled all the strength I had left to scream.

The scream was a whisper, rough and small coming out, but somehow someone heard it. I heard louder voices breaking through the pounding and then I knew they were there. I opened my eyes painfully and looked up.

My vision was shaking with my body but I made out my brothers.

What happens next is the worst memory I have.

The pain started to seep away from my body. They were yelling at me, and the oldest was kneeling besides me, holding my hand. As the shaking slowed they became clear, too clear. I heard one of them say I was so pale, and the other did not answer as he looked at my eyes.

I could feel everything, see everything, and smell everything. First it was noticing the threads on Michael's snowcap, then the heat pulsing off Jeremy's hand wrapped in mine, to two throbbing background sounds, and finally the smell. It was candy, it was life, and I had to have it.

My insides took over, screaming out over all my emotions with the need. I never had a chance at defeating that voice in that instant.

They were talking, but suddenly the thumping background noise had taken center stage.

I lost it. In seconds the twin thumps of their heartbeats were gone.

I killed my brothers.

I was a vampire.


	2. Lifeforce

**Twilight and all its characters belong to ****Stephenie**** Meyer.**

**Yes, this is short. It is however also very direct and too the point. Longer more detailed chapters will be arriving to a ****fanfiction**** near you soon.**

Before going any further, one must realize is that vampirism is a disease in itself. I had left behind one in exchange of another. Instead of putting you to rest as human diseases do it forces you to lay others to rest.

Vampirism is technical, and this is going to be the hardest part to explain. I think of it this way. Our kind has evolved from human species form to a more powerful, stronger species. But with all evolutions it was not a sound one, we are with deficiencies. Our bodies can not contain what is known as pranic energy, or life force through the way humans bodies are capable. This is the essence of existence.

The need for it is often uncontrollable, and wild. It is found strongest in the blood of living humans. The very force that mobilizes them is what we crave, once the life is gone from it however, so is the pranic energy. That is why the idea of taking blood from a lifeless source is so preposterous. Also though every living creature contains it, our systems can only absorb it from a blood. So having a bowl of fresh salad is definitely out.

I learned all of these things early on. My first few years were of trial and error. I had no assistance to start, and when I came across those who could help me, they were rare to want to. I lived as a constant nomad, figuring out the details on my own.

There were two mistakes that I learned in that time. The first was belief that I was a monster; I am not regardless of what has been said of me. I believe my soul is exactly where it had been all along. I am a predator, and though some predators can be monsters, I choose not to. To understand this concept I must sidetrack for a moment.

There are two types of predators, the hunters and the survivors. The hunters live in the thrill of the sport. And to them killing that in which they need to survive is in fact a sport. Personally I find this outlook morbid and morose. Then there are the survivors. They do what they have to, not with pleasure, but out of necessity. I am a survivor. I take no pleasure in killing, nor do I in the fact that I need to in order to survive. I hunt when needed to keep my control in check.

So the question arises then. If I hate the diet I posses why not change it. Well this is how I approach this. Would you ask a lion in the wild to consider being a vegetarian? Or perhaps try persuading a great white shark to live off of seaweed? It seems quite preposterous of an idea. Different creatures, but same idea.

I once thought myself a monster, but in reality I am not. The real monsters are the one who enjoy taking life, the power of it, the hunters.

I try to look at it like this. We all sustain ourselves off of life. Even those who are vegetarians are essentially feeding off of what was once a living energy. Plants, animals, humans, they are all living individuals organisms, remember the pranic energy?

Humans are very hypocritical creatures if you ask me. They eat ham and love dogs, groom horses and slaughter cows, build large gilded cages for a parakeet while grilling chicken. It is not a second thought for most of them.

I suppose that the parakeet is the best example of why. To the human the parakeet and the chicken are as different as the monkey and the human. The difference is that one does a better imitation of a human. Both are born, both feel, and both hurt. To the human though the ones that hurt more, love more, are the ones that most resembles or appeals to them.

In this reasoning many people believe that killing humans is wrong. But what makes it more wrong than the human killing the species below them in the food chain. They are carnivores by nature, and never is their moral standing brought to question. Why should the moral standing of a vampire be asked upon when all they want to do is pray on the species below them in the food chain? That species just happens to be humans.


	3. First Kills

**Twilight and all its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**I am thinking of moving the rating on this up to M. It will not get much more graphic than this chapter. If you could let me know what you think after reading I'd appreciate it.**

I made my second mistake first. It in fact was what lead me to believe there was truth in me being a monster in the first place.

My second mistake took place merely seconds after my rebirth into this creation, and will take lifetimes to forget. That is if I ever forget, which I doubt I can.

I killed first, thought later. I can see now that I never had a choice in what happened to Michael and Jeremy, and learned from that horrible lesson.

To my fortune I was aware of the surroundings I was left in.

I lived the beginning of my life as a vampire in the thick mountain range. I kept close listen for humans, and lived off the animals with their foul tastes.

Shame and misery were my companions there. The suicide I had so sought after was completely unattainable. So I made the mountains my personal hell, because hell was the only place I deserved to be.

After four months I had become as wild as the animals I ate. Paranoia of contact with a human was over-ruling me. I would hear voices in the bird's song, or footsteps in the rain. It was no surprise that I lost it so easily when I found real contact again.

The night was darker than usual from the pouring rain, yet steady without the wind. When I heard her scream I could not be sure. My perfect hearing was, but my altered thoughts were slow in believing.

The second cry for help was crystal clear as its echo was mixed with another sound. The snarl of a mountain lion attacking, then a loud ripping, it was too close.

I was frozen, not being able to run from the temptation too close to leave. And at that moment the wind choose to pick up.

I had not eaten in nearly a week. My senses tingled when the wind carried her scent to me. Not a scent of just a human, no it was too strong. The potent smell was laced with blood, lots of blood. My throat constricted and I felt my muscles preparing themselves.

I knew that the scent was miles away, but it was close enough. As a human I had what my family called a 'bionic nose'. As a vampire I had a 'gift' of a powerful torture device permanently fixated to my face. It could almost smell the heat of the blood pouring out of her, and the sweetness flowing through it.

I became a shark in the waters of the night. All there was lived in what I ran to then.

Just before reaching the scent there was a flash of light, and thunder broke the concentration of my deed.

I stopped, nearly fifty feet away. I held steady to the ground belong me with every ounce of strength I possessed.

I will avoid the gruesome details, but say this. As the lion was scared away from the loud boom, or perhaps my nearing presence she came into my view. There I saw a woman with less blood in her, than was pooled on the ground about her. Somehow her dull heart was thudding slowly, barely. Her eyes did not see me as they were flickering closed. The wind blew once more, and that was it.

Her staggered breath told me of her pain as I ran towards her. I took her life quickly, ending the suffering on both our parts.

A new strength overcame me with her blood, a new understanding. That was the last night that I spent in the forest.

In a move of caution I crossed the mountain that night to a small town I knew lingered on the other side. I passed through at night, while the humans quietly rested in their beds. I tested myself in my tolerance with this fresh blood in me, finding it stronger when having just fed.

If only those townspeople knew what that night could have been. Had I ventured without eating, I have no doubt I would have slaughtered the place house by house. Morbid, yes, but truth.

After passing the town I headed away. I did not know what to expect of myself. I knew I had changed physically. Though I had no way of really seeing exactly how in the dirty forest. Except for the effect of the sun, that is unavoidable.

I ran. I'm not sure how long exactly. But I ran until I knew I there was a safe enough distance between me and the remaining members of the humans I once called family.

The next few years I lived never in the same place for more than a day.

I encountered members of my kind in passing, and found the word kind was a wrong description all together. Our species is not kind or anything like it. They are territorial, arrogant and often vicious. I paid little attention to this; after all I was not looking for friends. I still believed I did not deserve them.

I found other things in my journeys as well. The first was my own reflection. I saw myself for the first time when passing through the quiet town. As I passed by a supermarket window I saw someone running alongside me.

She was beautiful, tall. When I stopped, she stopped. Her deep red eyes showed the evil that was hidden behind the beauty. They were easily missed behind the vivid long wispy waves that flowed down her body. I was venomously perfect.

In a few more days I found myself hungry and in too close a contact range with my poignant nose. Smell flowed around me everywhere like water to a man on the verge of dehydration. And I was thirsty, so thirsty. I had to kill, and I knew I would not go back to animals. Not now, not ever.

My first planned kill went terrible. I will not lie. I followed a man walking in a forest believing him to be alone. He was a large man with no ring, and tattered clothes. He appeared to be homeless, with no one. Or maybe my need made me want to believe so.

I walked soundlessly at a safe distance behind him for a mile. His pace slower than I would have thought imaginable, with his raising body temperature pulsing around him. I am ashamed to admit this, but I was reveling in the meal I would enjoy. Smelling him as one might a fine wine. I had no control over the monster counting his heartbeats, knowing he only had so many left to him.

When he had stopped for a drink of water by a stream I pounced. I tore into him before he understood what was happening. Never stopped

through his scream for help, or flinched when he began praying to God. And as quickly as it had started his fast heartbeats slowed. Thump..thump… thump…… thump. Nothing.

As I finished I knew I had to dispose of his body. Halfway through my task I found his wallet. I should have disposed it with his body, but I didn't. I opened it.

When the worn black leather folded open a small piece of paper drifted out and fell to the forest floor, catching the light on its way down. Picking it up I saw what it was. There were two beautiful small blonde identical girls, sitting on the lap of a beaming young mother. Behind them stood the man I just killed. The father, the husband, the person. His name was Jonathan Harris, and I had forever taken him from the people in this photo.

I put the photo into my pocket and finished my task.

I keep it with me still. It reminds me to be more careful. Since then I have only killed either the dying or those who deserve death.

A misunderstanding I hate is that it is assumed that because of what I am that I hate humans. How can I hate what I once was though? Does the butterfly hate the caterpillar? No more than the human hates the cow.

I wish I did not have to kill.


	4. An Offer

**Twilight and all its characters belong to lucky lady Ms. Stephenie Meyer.**

**Alright, I am officially about to overdose on candy! No more chocolate bunnies! Here's a fun fact for all you Easter folk out there, did you know that the average chocolate bunny has 1200 calories? Yea me neither. I found out after eating the whole freaking thing.**

**Enjoy this chapter, I think I need to go lay down…**

After several years or pointlessly roaming I knew I had to make a change. For most of our kind being a nomad works for them. For me however it was not working out at all, I needed more consistency in my existence.

I had managed to get a stronger control on my thirst, and the effects of their strong fragrances. With this new ability I attempted my first time living in a city.

I had no money, and the clothes I wore were obviously worn and dirty. I had no need for objects of vanity in my life as a nomad. But posing as a human in a rural area they became a serious requirement.

So for my first year in New Orleans, I stole. More than I'd care to admit. I was too fast and smooth for my gestures to be caught.

A slip of a hand across an open register while the cashier pointlessly flirted with me, a shirt here, sunglasses there.

Sunglasses. They became the oil in my operation. In the beginning I wore them constantly. I assume most people just thought me mysterious. Imagine if they only knew I was trying to cloak my blood red eyes.

Eventually thievery wore on me. The money was insignificant and the thrill was gone. I needed no home, but craved for a place of my own personal belonging. That required more money than what the cash register of the corner store held.

So I weighed my options for some time, and watched how the humans around me did it. And one night, while passing the dark alleyways of the deserted city a solution found me.

A cry came from ahead of me. It was a strangled voice that a human would not hear. It was pleading, begging. The sound of it made me shutter, the man was asking for his life. I knew those pleas too well.

I know I should not have intervened, but I did. As I walked, I slowed so my heels clicked on the wet pavement.

A man turned as he heard the noise approaching. He was only human, large in size, with a metal bar in one hand, and the throat of victim in the other. He sneered at me when he saw me. "Get out of here, NOW!"

His voice was commanding, and had I been a human I would have been terrified, but I was not a human. Too bad for him he didn't know that.

I laughed, and he raised his eyebrows. The man before him was staring at me with intent before he lost his consciousness and slumped to the ground. Had I not been able to hear the slow beat of his heart I may have thought him dead.

The large man dropped his hold and turned his focus on me. "Suit yourself you dumb bitch, stay."

The sneer on his face widened to what I thought could be a smile. He licked his lips disgustingly as he walked towards me. I did not flinch when his vile smell filled my nose, mixed with the rancid smell of cigars.

He put his face towards mine. "You are damn fine, why don't you take off those glasses so I can look into your eyes when I…"

I did as he asked, pulled the glasses off my face and slowing his speech.

He stared in disbelief at my face. The dim light in the alley must have allowed him to see the color that was hidden. "What the hell is wrong with your eyes?!"

I didn't answer, he had gotten too close for my liking and his horrid smell was not worth the trouble of drinking. "What were you doing?" My voice was deadly, and something about me was finally putting him off his comfort.

He took a step back, but I took one forward. My hand went to his neck, as his had to the mans. I grabbed hard enough that it would hurt, seeing fear appear in his eyes.

"Hey, what the fuck! I'm just doing my job!" His voice was panicked, but not as much as his heartbeat as I slightly lifted him about an inch off the pavement. This was too much for him, he grabbed at each of my wrists, trying with all his strength to push them away.

"What are you?!" He screamed now, kicking me with his swinging legs. This was too much for me. And the man behind me was stirring. I took one last look at the cruel face before me.

I closed my eyes as I twisted his neck. When I heard the final snap I dropped him to the side of the alley and began to walk away, slipping my glasses back on.

"Wait!" A small voice stopped me. Again I should have ignored it, but I didn't. Instead I turned and faced the scared face laying in the slump he had been left in when his attacker dropped him.

"Please, just a minute." I could tell he was terrified of me, but he wanted me to come closer. This was a first, and it intrigued me.

"What?" I asked showing him how annoyed I was.

"How did you do that?" He asked slow and soft.

I sighed, knowing what a bad idea this was. "I'm a black belt."

He nodded and smiled a bit, odd. Then he continued. "That was not your first time killing someone was it?"

His words were quite, but very direct. I stopped completely and stared at him, thinking he knew my secret. I did not answer the question. He took that as a confirmation.

He took a deep breath and ran his small hand over his bruising neck. Then without another word he shakily rose to his feet. "I owe you. My name is Anthony Bellino. Who are you?"

As bad of a position as I had led myself into, I knew better than to reveal my true name. So I lied. "Alexis Drew."

He stared at me, as though he were deciding something. "How old are you?"

I lied again, I hardly think he would have believed me almost forty. "Twenty-two."

"You don't look older than nineteen." He said as he moved another inch closer to me, his senses obviously coming back.

He was smart. I was a month away from my twentieth birthday the night I was changed. I shrugged my shoulders as I reappraised the man myself.

He was in his early forties. His frame was small, and his hair balding, but he was impeccably dressed in a designer suit. It became my turn for questions. "Why was he trying to kill you?"

The man stiffened at my question and his eyes glanced only for a moment to the lifeless body besides us. "His boss and I have been having a hard time seeing eye to eye lately, if you know what I mean." He looked me up and down once more. "You really don't' know who I am do you?"

I had no idea who he was in particular. But the way he spoke, the clothes he wore, and his total disregard for the dead clued me in. He was mafia. I decided I had had enough of this conversation, and did not care to know any more. I rolled my eyes at the man and turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait a second there sugar. I have an offer for you, as a thank you. I'll make it worth your time." I immediately had a feeling where this conversation as headed, and I allowed myself to walk down the path he was paving.

That night in the dark alley, amid death, he offered me a job. He wanted me to kill. He didn't seem surprised that the idea did not faze me, like he knew that I was a killer. He offered me all the money I could ask for, if I could accomplish the first task he gave me.

The men I would kill were no better than those who usually killed them. They had it coming to them I figured. So, that's how I became a professional killer.


	5. First Job

I quickly learned that Anthony was not from New Orleans. He had been followed down on an 'errand' that he said I didn't need to know about. There were a lot of things I was not told, and did not care to know.

I was told they were in the casino business in Las Vegas and it was left there. He offered me ten thousand if I could accomplish the task at hand. I agreed and he offered me a ride in his limo back which I refused. As controlled as I had become, several hours in a confined space would push me over my limit. Even if his smell was practically covered by the Old Spice he must have bathed in.

Instead I ran there later that night and met him the following day.

He met me in a small dimly lit room at the end of the casino. It was guarded by two heavyset men that eyed me like candy.

Inside were a desk and a man slightly older than Anthony. He yelled at Anthony that he wasn't allowed to bring his 'girls' back here.

After he cleared up who I was, and what he intended me to do the other man warmed up fast. "Huh. A girl? Well he won't be expecting that." He looked at my eyes that were covered in the black glasses. "He's guarded at all times by at least two guys. You don't have a problem with that?"

I smiled smoothly and shook my head no. He was amused by me, I could see it. "Fine, she wants to get herself killed, that's her decision. I'm Tony's big brother Damarco. You can call me Marky if you make it back. You got a week; if you can't kill him by then, and are alive we'll find you."

He threw an envelope at me, and waved me out of the room. Anthony walked out behind me whispering as the door closed. "Everything you need is in that envelope. Photo, address, and the first grand for the job. You'll get the rest when we get word he's dead."

I nodded and before leaving decided to ask one question of my own. "Why do you want him dead?"

Anthony chuckled. "He's a problem."

That was the only answer he was gonna give me as he turned and walked back into the room. I took that information and left.

I found my way to the address given to me and waited. It was a large, gaudy looking house with gates and a gold fountain on the front lawn. The large iron gates out front held a small camera on top of them. It swung back and forth every ten seconds, scanning the grounds.

That was easy to avoid. I slipped my way over the gates and moved closer to the house, seeing no more cameras. Getting inside was easier than I had thought it would be, a window having been left open in the back.

Inside I walked quietly through the marble floored rooms. Every room was tackier than the rest, and I thought anyone who thought this much gold and silk together was classy deserved to be killed.

There were no photos in the house, and it was virtually empty minus two guards who were watching the cameras. I listened to them chatter for several minutes until I learned there names and that my target would be home soon.

Avoiding the line of sight of the cameras I made my way upstairs to what was obviously the master bedroom. I could not decide which was worse, the round bed covered in black silk sheets, or the white bearskin rug complete with bears head that lay in front of it. Perhaps it was the large mirror positioned over the bed.

I headed over to the closet and just as I suspected found no woman's clothing, just a row of suits that matched the taste the house displayed. And a row of white alligator loafers. Very classy.

Rolling my eyes, and thinking about what an arrogant jerk this guy must be I made my way back to the bedroom. I heard some commotion 

downstairs, so I got to work disconnecting the smoke detector in the room, and then jumping out the window to the backyard.

I had devised a plan that I was sure this guy would fall for. I headed back around to the front gates and listened from the street.

Inside my target was in fact home and was talking to his guards about how he needed to relax and wanted to be left the hell alone. Perfect.

I smiled to myself and made my way back around the house and smoothly up through the open bedroom window. As I heard his lone footsteps approach the door I laid myself across the silk sheets in a suggestive position.

The door handle twisted open and a short man with greasy black and white hair walked in the door. He smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol. His eyes bulged as he looked me over. "Who the hell are you?"

I smiled my best seductive smile and leaned up on the bed. "My name is Candy, Bill and Paul ordered me for you. They said you needed some help relaxing."

My voice was low and close to purring as I spoke, and I knew then he was putty in my hands. A wicked smile danced on his lips as he closed the door behind him. "I'm gonna have to give those boys a raise for finding me a treat like you."

He licked his lips, and I held back the gag that came to me. Instead I smiled and bit my lip in return.

He removed his white suit coat and un-tucked the red silk shirt below it before heading over to me. He had made this almost too easy for me.

His smell was drifting closer to me as he moved, and a rush of venom hit my mouth. I moved towards him with a different kind of lust, waiting for him at the end of the bed, on all fours like an excited child.

He eagerly joined me and whispered into my ear in a hot moist breath. "Damn you are hot."

I smiled and my lips went to his neck. "Not exactly."

As my cold skin met his sweaty neck I bit him. At first he didn't realize, then just in time for him to really freak out I covered his screams with my hand and finished my task.

When his body slumped back onto his sheets, there was no blood left in him. I had no realized just how hungry I really was. The look of shock was plastered forever on his face.

I walked calmly to the door, locked it and pushed a dresser in front of it for good measure. Then I walked back over to the bed and curled his body in the silk sheets until he was nothing more than a lump.

Sighing I picked up the white coat from the floor and searched for the lighter I was sure was in there. I opened a bottle of cologne off the dresser and dumped it on the sheets.

The smell made me nauseous and I stopped breathing. The sheets lit up with the first flicker of flame from the gold lighter. I watched for several minutes until the smell of burning flesh broke through my senses and I knew I had to leave.

The fire had overtaken his body, the bed, and was moving onto the carpet beside it. With one last glance I jumped out of the window and headed back to the casino.


	6. Moving On

**Twilight and all its characters belong to Ms. Stephenie Meyer.**

**Okay, I hate this chapter. It is short and has been hanging over my head for a few days now, so I decided to just post it as is. Hopefully once I get past this chapter I'll be able to move on with things.**

Four years passed with Marky and Tony.

They were not the nicest people, but had somehow become family. Marky began to admire me as a daughter, though I spent as little time around them and their scents as possible.

I killed more men than I kept count of in that time. After the first few months I had a reputation. No one other than Mary and Tony knew who I was, or that I was a woman. I was referred to as Alex Drew, the arsonist.

Occasionally for theatrical reasons I would involve a gun, or a knife, to make it look more human, and mix things up. The men I killed never suspected me, and I never regretted another kill. The ones I killed were truer forms of murders themselves, killing for greed. I was killing for life.

I knew there was an investigation being brought on us by the FBI and decided it was time for me to take my money and leave. The brothers had been kind to me, but were becoming suspicious. After all I had not aged a day since they met me, or been injured once.

They were not happy with my 'branching out', but in the end it did not matter. I left them and my life there behind, taking an offer for a much more prestige job on the east coast.

It had been something presented to Marky and Tony by a business man they were associated with. I was in the next room over when he asked if he could contact Alex Drew for a job he needed. Marky and Tony played dumb, and denied having a connection to me. The man then offered them a large percentage of what he was going to give me, and they kept up the charade having him escorted off the property.

I later stole his phone number and called him a few days later, posing as Alex Drew's secretary. I never told Marky and Tony though. Instead I left after finishing my last job for the two brothers.

I heard a week after my departure their office was raided by the FBI and they were both sentenced for jail time. Marky was murdered two days after arriving at the jail. Word gets around fast.

In my new business I devised a new system. I never met the client, I had a drop box for information and job offers. I would select which jobs I wanted, and then give them an account number for my foreign bank account. Once half a payment was transferred and I got word that they were good for the rest, the job would be done.

I had left Las Vegas in 1980. Fifteen years passed faster then I would have believed. I had enough money that I could retire and live off interest for forever, but quitting never crossed my mind. I enjoyed what I did; getting paid to do that what is the most natural to me.

After the first five years on the east coast I finally got what I had been after in Las Vegas, a home.

I bought a secluded house an hour outside of New York City. It is nestled deeply in the woods, and away from people.

I first bought the twenty acres it lays on, then had the house built. Describing it wouldn't do, It's cold and contemporary, yet warm and detailed. It's perfect.

After that work came and work went. Time along with it, I felt no need to monitor the time or the years that passed me. They meant nothing to me. The years crept up until they reached near the present. That is where my story gets a bit more interesting.


	7. Ghosts

**Twilight and all its characters belong to Ms. Stephenie Meyer.**

**Okay, I could not stay away from this story. If you read the A/N this replaced you may have figured out that I'm not having the best week ever. It's because of that fact that this story will probably be updated frequently this week. I tend to find writing these chapters easier when I'm feeling down myself. So that said, I hope you like this next chapter. It may be my favorite of the story.**

As a human there were certain points that stood out clearer than others. Certain memories that settle into your collective lifetime with more strength than others.

The same can be said in the existence we live as vampires. Our minds are gifted with more clarity than is truly needed, making forgetting a hard task. In choice situations this is a remarkable thing, in others it is the worst torture imaginable.

The face of every human I have ever killed is always there. It is not in a constant flow through my thought process, but it is never far away. When my mind drifts there I remember the wrinkles on their face, the color they wore to their deathbed and the look in their eyes.

With each human the look is different, yet eerily the same. The one I remember the most frequently and find the hardest to push away is the man I killed in the mountains. I see two realities when I see him. The first is the way he looked as I first saw him dirty and walking alone in the woods, then as I laid him down to the ground, lifeless and gone. There was no peace in his passing, it was not his time.

Then my mind shifts, and the reality blurs. I see him with his family. They are posing for the photo I carry with me. I never have to look at the wrinkled piece of paper to know their smiles. In this reality they are laughing and happy. It is the 

life he was meant to live, without my interference. A life I was never destined to and a destiny that I tore away.

The images haunt me more than I should allow, more than I can help.

I grow lonely as the years pass, and these memories, these passed people; they have become my company. I know it is bizarre and wrong, but it passes my timeless hours. I imagine their lives they lived. I imagine they are with me, and we are passing the time together.

The fascination I have in these lives crossed a line of sanity a few years ago. My life had become not an existence, but a remembrance to those whose lives I captured. I had become closely obsessed with what I had stolen.

I knew it had become too much when I saw him. An illusion, a ghost, a personal demon, call him what you may, I saw him.

He was well dressed, and one of my kind. He walked past me in disinterest through the maze of people that walk the streets of New York. He knew not of me, but I could not help but know him. His every refined feature was there, eyes black and cold. He passed in the moment, never meeting my stare.

When I came to my senses and reality I knew he was an illusion, but I looked for him. I spent a week searching for the face that haunted me every day.

I expected to turn a corner and find him laughing with the ageless wife in her youth, and their beautiful twin daughters. They would be laughing, and my heart would let go, and forgiveness would come. No harm would have ever been placed.

After a week I realized that I was loosing my mind. He could not have been whom I thought. That man was dead, by my own doing. I had listened to his heart stop, and shed tearless sobs of regret for him and his family. I had to stop myself somehow.

I knew I was in desperate need of a connection. Not to my home, or to myself. I needed a connection to another existence. The only ones I reached out to were those who I killed. It was no wonder this had happened.

I sat for two weeks in my house. I watched the sun rise, and saw it's departing from the same place as I thought. I came up with a ridiculous solution, but one that was the only one I could think of.

I bought a betta fish. I named him Albert, and bought the biggest tank at the pet store. I found something in him. He was like me.

He was beautiful, yet always alone. He lived to fight; it was his birthright, as killing was mine. A fish named Albert became my family.

It was a ludicrous reaction to my actions, but it worked somehow. The more time I spent talking to Albert, the more I got out. Day by day there were fewer skeletons in my closet. The ghosts began to fade into the darkness they belonged in.

All but the man in the mountain, but I never expect to forget him. I never expected him to be in the darkness, he seemed to belong instead to the light.

It was strange, for I had killed my brothers from my first life. Yet, their lives never hung over me; I had accepted that I had no control when that happened. And the connection I shared once with them had been dulled with time.

It was the man though that should have been saved. I was stronger then. I knew this, and somehow I felt the universe agreed. His memory was my punishment, and the least I deserved for my act.

Albert agreed with me on that.

More time passed for Albert and me. We would listen to opera and great composers at night together.

He especially appreciated the more upbeat songs of Puccini, swimming happily to the music. While I found greater comfort in the sorrowful sounds such as O Fortuna.

It was not a life, but a slightly more acceptable existence.

Nearly a year after Albert had joined me; I was convinced I had regained all my sanity back. Well as much sanity as a girl who calls a fish her family has.

Memories were still there, but I no longer spent all my free time with them as I had before.

I had taken to things I usually avoided. I embarked on trips to the city I lived near to for reasons outside of business.

One cloudy day I had set off for a shopping trip, deciding to do some updating to my drab and lackluster wardrobe.

The store I chose was deliberately exclusive and seemingly empty. I had a personal shopper following me along the racks and collecting things. She was a 

small frail girl of about 18, who was obviously intimidated by me. Though I could tell even she was not sure what astounded her aside from my beauty.

Her instincts kept her a safe distance at all times as she fluttered about me, and I was grateful for not having to test my control. I had bought more than was needed and preparing to leave, after a quick glance once more at a pair of shoes.

With my back to the store I heard the flustered girl become breathless. Her heart picked up its rate to an alarming speed, and she sent out a stuttered greeting. Though she was so put off by this person, she was definitely familiar as she placed his name in the greeting.

Not turning around I waited for the second beat to come into hearing. It never did, and as he approached I recognized why it had not. Vampire.

He knew I was there as well, his gaze boring into the back of my head. He was allowing me to make the first move, a rare courtesy among our kind. I accepted his offer and turned slowly, gracefully, calmly.

All calmness left in a fleeting breath as I laid my eyes on his familiar face.

My ghost was staring at me from behind dark sunglasses, mirroring my own. He had an amused smile on his face as he took me in. I could not speak, I could not move, in fear he would disappear into my imagination again.

But he didn't, the girl had approached me and asked me if I needed further assistance. I did not answer her, or speak to him, I just stared. It became clear, he was real, and he was here.

I handed the dazed girl my credit card, not making an effort to soothe her confusion and move. This made him smile, and then he did it. He approached me. Slowly as you would a frightened child.

His voice was smooth as silk when he spoke. "Hello there. We meet at last."

I could hear the humor intended, but I could not feel it. His words mocked my soul; he really had no idea who I was.

And it was then that the earlier greeting of the salesgirl had finally sunk in. The name, his name, it was wrong, not the same. Maybe I was wrong, and maybe he was not the same. At that point all my sanity could only hope.


	8. Lunch

**Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

* * *

Vocabulary was failing me as I stared down his slightly altered features.

The salesgirl walked up to me with bags lining her frail arms. Her pulse was strong in the strenuous act, and the vampire in front of me walked away from the poignant smell wafting around us.

Not wanting to be the cause of a scene I quickly took the bags into my own arms, carefully appearing to put more of an effort in than I was. I saw him smile from the distance he had moved, finding my show amusing.

The girl was talking, and I was watching him.. As she walked toward the vampire in the corner his hand went up, a blunt demand for privacy. She smiled impishly once more before fading behind a dark glass screen.

His dark glasses mirrored my fascinated stares growing closer with each step he returned to me. When he was within human whispering distance he tipped his head down towards mine. In an unnecessary closeness he whispered to my ear. "Would you care to join me for lunch?"

I found my voice and my stand as I composed myself. I watched in the reflection as my shocked features turned emotionless and hard as the rock we were made of. "Maybe… What's on the menu?"

He found me entertaining, his smile told me that. "Perhaps a bit of businessman with a side of secretary."

Though I couldn't see the depths of his eyes, I heard the excitement that was laced in his statement. The very idea of killing was a thrill for this vampire; he was what I detested most. As much as I wanted to walk away, ignoring his very 

question, my curiosity drove me to stay. He took my silence as consent to his offering and I did not debate that.

Not another word was spoken as I trailed behind him towards the front of the store, the valet pulling up with my car.

"Flashy." He commented as he slipped into the passenger seat.

I smirked. It was not the flash of the car I drove that I cared for, but the performance. And this particular car knew how to perform.

Once we were both situated I slammed the gas down swerving into the twisted streets of New York. Neither of us flinched as I moved between tight spaces at high speeds. It was not until the city began to fan out behind us did he realize I had no intentions of following his plans. Though by his laughing tone, he was far from worried. "Are you taking me hostage?"

I could not answer him. I didn't know what I was doing. The direction I was headed was plain stupid. Yet as the highway appeared before me, I knew I was going to do it anyways. I didn't know what else to do.

"When were you changed?" The coy air between us dissipated as I spoke. He finally realized that something was going on.

"Why?" His voice was still cordial, though very distant as he tried to figure my question out.

"Curiousity." I answered trying to remain aloof, suburbs passing fast alongside the car.

He made a soft chuckling noise before answering the question. "1971, I was twenty-four. And since we're on the topic, how about you?"

I heard his question, and chose to ignore it as my mind reeled with what his answer meant. 1971, that meant that it was impossible that he was who he so greatly resembled. That did not explain the similarity though, it was too uncanny for there to be no relation.

"Where are you from?" I pressed on.

"Hey this isn't twenty questions sweetheart. Answer mine, and maybe I'll answer yours." I was beginning to detest him more by the minute as he spoke.

Through clenched teeth I let out my words. "About 60 years ago."

He nodded. "Vermont, Burlington. I relocated to the city shortly after. Easier living."

My whole body stiffened as my fingers tightly clenched the steering wheel beneath it. I was dangerously close to snapping it in half. Vermont. That was a bad answer.

He noticed the change in my posture. Sighing he wrapped his hand around the handle, preparing to leave even with the car speeding past one hundred. "Listen, obviously you want something else with me other than lunch company. Why don't you just get to the point already, or I can leave."

His fingers twitched ever so slightly down on the handle as he raised his eyebrows at me. Even though he was not my favorite person, he was perceptive, seeing right through my intentions.

I debated for a mere minute before deciding. If he ran now, I might never find the answers to my questions. I swallowed my pride and began speaking. "I thought you were someone else when I encountered you in the store."

"Who?" He moved his hand from the handle swiftly back to his lap as he emotionlessly studied my face.

"A man I came across in the Green Mountains as a newborn." The words barely left my mouth before his calm façade faded away. An odd recognition hit as his face twisted.

"What did you do to that man?" The confusion was obvious in his voice.

I was going to lie; I had the lie ready in my mind when he grabbed my arm. It was not a harsh hard movement. Smooth and steady his long pale hand wrapped around my arm. And under his touch the words slipped truthfully out of my lips. "I killed him."

He tossed my arm away. A look of disgust filled his face, as I found myself confused.

Just a short while ago he was speaking of murdering innocent people, yet when I mentioned a past act of the very same… he became angry.

There were no words. It passed on the road this way for another few minutes. His anger had yet to dissipate, as did my confusion.

The event obviously held a meaning he was not yet willing to divulge in me. One I was dying to know (if I wasn't already dead that is). It had to be the connection to the man's appearance and his. That was what drove me to continue on the path I had begun on, patiently waiting for him to speak again.


	9. Results

Hi guys, so here it is. Overall most people wanted option one of waiting. Which I too think is the slightly better option.

I also have to say a few things. First, before writing anything else I plan on rereading Breaking Dawn. A friend of mine who actually loved the story said something the other day that made sense. She said that the reason that the book seemed so distant from the others is because it was done in a different mind frame. It was a lighter happier book for the most part, because she was happy to finally be able to write this part. And it's true, I mean come on people look at her playlist… The Beach Boys? I don't know about you, but that's one of my personal happy songs:) So I want to give it another chance, because I think I may have been too harsh.

Next, it wasn't Breaking Dawn alone that led me to this. I honestly don't have the time to be writing, lol or reading for that matter. I'm back up to three or four chapters on almost all the fanfictions I read, and I only replied to like half your reviews… sorry. My life is extremely complicated and will remain so till semester starts in the fall.

And finally…. I love all of you guys! I thought you were gonna throw rocks at me for that last post, and instead you were all so amazingly understanding and encouraging. That's what made me want to continue on the most. So try not to loose patience with me, and you have my word that by the end of this month each story will have a posting:) Thanks a million everyone!

P.S. I am looking for someone to be a beta for a side project I'm working on. Message me if you're interested.


End file.
